


Searching

by Gyhl



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:19:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyhl/pseuds/Gyhl
Summary: Prompt: Schadenfreude





	Searching

Wrath reclined in her security alcove, watching the monitors above her. Watching as the tiny, blue Twi’lek searched frantically in the crew quarters. Watching as the stone-faced captain shadowed her. Watching as the Twi’lek started and let out of cry of pain that Wrath couldn’t hear. 

Her lips twisted into a cold smile. She thought she could see the tears on the Twi’lek’s face. She punched in a code and a different camera angle came up. There were, indeed, tears on her face, and Vette did not cry easily. That pleased Wrath to see.

There had been a time when seeing Vette cry would have been enough for her; a time when such a showing would have convinced her to show mercy. Vette had been a gift to her from her Master, and they hadn’t been together long when the Twi’lek had asked her to take the shock collar off. At the time, she had agreed. Her slave had done as bidden and Wrath could have done far worse than simply _shock_ her if needed. And the Twi’lek had served her well.

Until now.

She’d allowed her crew a bit of a holiday, and Vette had returned with a datachip of intel on another Sith. A Sith which Wrath had been monitoring. And that datachip had subsequently been _misplaced_ by the Twi’lek. Wrath had choked the slave for her failure, and held her in mid-air while Quinn forced her back into the shock collar. And Wrath had watched for the past two hours while Vette scoured the stronghold for the datachip, Quinn shocking her at routine intervals.

On the monitor, Quinn took out his comm-relay and Wrath heard her own beep.

“My Lord, Vette has searched the entirety of the stronghold and has been unable to locate the datachip.”

“Really?”

Wrath extended her hand with an almost languid gesture and flicked her fingers. A datachip - the very one Vette sought - floated off of the console and hovered above her hand. She moved her fingers slowly and the chip turned in the air.

“Yes, my Lord. She’s asked if she might have a few minutes, or perhaps another pair of eyes.”

Wrath’s pale eyes closed. She could feel the captain’s fear even if she couldn’t hear it in his voice. He knew, of all of them, what her unbridled rage felt like. Had Vette actually asked for help, or had Quinn begun to wonder if the end of her patience was coming?

“And who do you suggest help her?”

“I…” His options were few at present, with most of the crew still gone. There was her apprentice, but she had embraced cruelty with a speed that pleased Wrath endlessly. “What about 2V-R8?”

Wrath’s eyes opened and flicked up to the monitors. “He’s down in the workshop. Broonmark wanted him to…” she waved her free hand. “...organize _something_ in there.”

She watched on the screen as Quinn realized his options were to ask _her_ for assistance, or offer his own. She thought she could see the calculation in his eyes as he mentally assessed where Vette could have possibly missed and how much of his Lord’s anger would fall on _him_ if they failed.

“I… see, my Lord.”

She closed the comm and watched them on the monitor. The answer was so obvious, so _painfully_ obvious. And yet.

It was a couple minutes before she saw Vette run out of the crew quarters. Wrath watched from monitor to monitor as the Twi’lek ran down to the workshop. She watched as Vette flailed at the cringing droid, watched as understanding and anger crossed the Twi’lek’s face. Wrath chuckled to herself as the tiny blue woman _stalked_ down the corridor to the security alcove.

"You had it all _along_?" Vette snapped as the door into the alcove slid open.

Wrath turned her chair and stood. She brought the still hovering, still slowly rotating datachip with her. She towered over the Twi’lek, and still the anger was so clear on that blue face. That pleased Wrath.

“2V found it this morning. He brought it to me before I asked you about it.”

“You told me you didn’t know where it was!”

Wrath shook her head once. “I asked where you put it. I told you to find it. Nothing more.”

“You-” Vette let her anger spill out of her, not thinking about the shock collar on her neck or the power of the Sith she was yelling at. She had been hurt and humiliated for _hours_ for what, to her, was little more than a Sith game.

Wrath only smiled coldly, letting the Twi’lek’s words just wash over her. The mistake would not be repeated, _and_ the Twi’lek was giving in to her anger. Whenever she was done ranting, Wrath would take the collar off of her again. A reward, of sorts, for the later.


End file.
